


Everything looks perfect from far away

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Tag, Established Relationship, F/M, Fic, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 03:10:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have important news and two confessions," said Neal, as if he'd been rehearsing the line on his way over. "Which do you want first?"</p><p>Episode tag for 2.15.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything looks perfect from far away

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks and bouquets to dragonfly and bethbethbeth for beta! <3 <3 <3

It was nearly eleven o'clock and Peter was just summoning the energy to turn off the TV and go to bed when there was a familiar knock on the door. He went to answer it. "Oh look, it's former FBI Agent Peter Burke."

"Hey, Peter." Neal's suit jacket was neatly folded over his arm, his tie was straight, and despite the heat, he didn't have a hair out of place. But something was off. Maybe it was his smile, restrained and not quite reaching his eyes. That was his holding-it-together smile. He came inside, gave Peter a quick peck on the cheek—nothing like their usual greeting when they were in private—and bent to pat Satchmo, who was sitting at the foot of the stairs waiting patiently for El to come down and begin his nightly routine.

When Neal straightened, Peter squeezed his shoulder and drew him into the living room. "What's up?"

"I have important news and two confessions," said Neal, as if he'd been rehearsing the line on his way over. "Which do you want first?"

"Confessions?" A thin tendril of dread curled in Peter's stomach. Their private relationship was precarious, and a misstep on any of their parts could spell disaster. But this was Neal—there was a more likely reason for him to have to come clean. "Did you steal something?"

Before Neal could reply, El came down the stairs. "Neal." She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "You were great tonight. Very convincing as my husband." She grinned, then pulled her hair aside and fanned the back of her neck with her hand. "Phew, too hot! You want some sorbet?"

Neal nodded. "Please."

"Neal has two confessions," said Peter.

"And important news about Gerhard Wagner," Neal added quickly, as if he were trying to balance the scales.

"Gerhard Wagner?" El raised her eyebrows at Peter.

"Connected to the music box," he told her. "Confessions first."

El started for the kitchen, but Peter and Neal stayed where they were, facing each other. Peter's dread thickened and twisted. Neal was clearly troubled by whatever he'd done, and depending on the crime, damage control could mean anything from Peter's lying to the FBI to engineering a way to keep Neal out of prison.

Neal laid his jacket over the back of the armchair. "I may have—" There was a brief hesitation, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "—temporarily misplaced my FBI badge. The one I—"

On cue, Peter pulled Neal's doctored badge out of his back pocket and held it up. "This one?"

Neal's eyes widened. "How'd you do that?"

"I spent an afternoon at Mozzie and June's School of Criminal Learning," said Peter and winked at him, relieved. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a big deal.

But Neal barely returned his smile. "Hide your valuables," he told El. "There's a thief in the house." Despite the lightness of his tone, he still seemed tense, distracted.

"You two are adorable." El had come back to stand beside Peter. "What's confession number two?"

Neal scraped his teeth over his lower lip and looked away from her, first to Peter and then to the mantelpiece, though Peter didn't think he was really seeing anything there. Apparently the first confession had been an appetizer: now Neal was going to drop the real bombshell.

Peter braced himself for the worst. "Neal?"

"It doesn't—" Neal broke off and looked up. He must have seen the worry on Peter's face, because he took a step forward so they were only a foot apart, but rather than reaching for Peter or El, he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I kissed Sara Ellis," he said, low and fast. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and met Peter's gaze. "Not really a kiss, more like—I didn't plan to, but it was dark and we—"

"You had sex with Sara Ellis?" Peter heard himself ask. The question sounded distant and unbelievably casual, belying the way the coil in his stomach was tightening into a knot of jealousy. They'd only just started this relationship, but the prospect of losing it was devastating. Had it all been a con? Had Peter risked everything, only to be made a fool of? He'd known Sara was attracted to Neal, but Neal had given every sign he was committed to the relationship between the three of them. Had that been an act, a façade he cast aside when they weren't around? An image of Neal and Sara together hit Peter like a blow.

"No!" Neal gave Peter a pleading look. "Not exactly. We started to—"

El pressed against Peter's side. He didn't know if she was seeking comfort or offering it, but he put his arm around her anyway.

"Mozzie interrupted us," said Neal, none of his usual charm and humor shining through.

Peter waited for that to sink in: they hadn't. Not yet, anyway.

El caught Neal's wrist and tugged him closer. "Is it serious? Are—Neal, are you breaking up with us?"

For a split second, Peter felt the weight of what his life would be like if Neal said yes. The pain and awkwardness of carrying on at work as though nothing had changed. The need to be cheerful and friendly, to fake detachment. It felt like hell.

"No!" said Neal again. "I mean, it was heat of the moment—" He took El's hand in both of his. "There was a blackout, and she was right there and—There's something between us, but it's not like this. Nothing's like this." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you guys."

Peter believed that, at least. Neal wasn't cruel. "Are you going to see her again?"

"No." Neal sighed heavily. "I don't know. I love you guys, I do. And I'm in love with you." He hunched his shoulders. "I just don't know if that's enough."

Peter pressed his lips together and made himself think before he retorted. Love had been enough to propel Peter past misgivings and ethical concerns, enough to drive him and Elizabeth to open their marriage to Neal, making themselves unthinkably vulnerable in the process. If Neal didn't love them as much, it wasn't reasonable to blame him for that, but Peter could feel resentment building anyway. What more did Neal want from them—the freedom to screw around? Peter might be new to the realities of a threesome, but he knew not all relationships were exclusive. But the idea of lying awake with El, both of them wondering who Neal was with—and why he wasn't with them—filled him with despair. That was a bridge too far. Peter didn't think he could ever get used to that. He didn't want to.

El was biting her lip, her eyebrows drawn together, and Neal stood very still, watching them both, as if he could read their every thought.

"Sit down," said Peter, as evenly as he could. All three of them sat on the couch, perched on the edge of the cushions, with Neal in the middle. "Now, tell us what it is you need."

Neal swallowed and looked down at his hands, clasped between his knees. "I see what you guys have and I want that," he said, as if this were the real confession. "I want to be able to kiss in the office and go to museum openings together, hold hands with you in the street and not have to pretend."

The world flipped right-side up again, and Peter almost laughed with relief. Neal wanted more, not less. More importantly, he wanted _them_. "Look at you. I finally got you walking on the right side of the law, and now you want a picket fence. The great Neal Caffrey wants to settle down."

Neal's jaw clenched, and something flashed across his face. Irritation, perhaps, or grief, gone before Peter could make sense of it.

El was faster on the uptake. "You always did, didn't you?" She covered Neal's hand with hers. Her wedding ring glowed gold in the lamplight.

Peter shifted on the couch so he could see them, their two dark heads close together. A realization hit him. "That's what the McNally solitaire was about. You were going to propose to Kate. That's why you held onto it all these years."

"Kate's gone." Neal widened his knees, pressing his thigh to Peter's. "I've moved on."

Peter returned the pressure. "I know."

"We'll find a way," El murmured to Neal. "We'll figure this out, so you get what you need. I promise."

Neal took a sharp breath, stood up and began pacing, his hands thrust back into his pockets. "How? We can't officially see each other, you live outside my radius and my tracking data's available to half the FBI. Peter's never going to be able to acknowledge me publicly. And it's always going to be this way: you two get to come home together every night, and I—don't."

El followed him. "Neal."

Peter was rooted to the couch, struck by the depth of Neal's frustration and the insurmountable obstacles to resolving it. Neal wanted what he and El took for granted, and the illicit nature of their relationship meant Peter couldn't offer him public recognition or a shared home. El couldn't kiss him in the street.

Sara Ellis, on the other hand, could.

Neal stopped and leaned his forehead against the side of the bookcase. "It shouldn't be your problem," he said. "I knew going in that this was how it would be. I chose this."

"People change," said Peter. "Anyway, you've always been my problem."

For a moment, Neal didn't move, and Peter thought he must have missed the warmth in that wry acknowledgement, but then Neal raised his head and gave him a wan smile.

"Move in with us," said El suddenly. "That wouldn't fix everything, but it'd be a start, wouldn't it? We could all come home together. I want that too."

Peter opened his mouth to object. There were so many reasons, so many risks. But none of them mattered as much as Neal's happiness. He needed them as much as they needed him—maybe even more. Peter shoved the reasons aside. "We can do that."

Neal sent him a skeptical look.

"Are you going to see Sara again?" asked El. Peter could hear how much it cost her to ask.

Neal shook his head but didn't answer, and Peter couldn't help himself. He went over and pulled him into a hug.

"Move in with us," Peter murmured into his ear. "There's a way—we just have to find it." They'd unraveled so many other impossible puzzles between them, they could make this happen too.

For the first time since he'd walked in the door, Neal started to relax. He leaned into Peter and breathed deeply, then pulled back in his arms, his skepticism turning thoughtful. "If we could con Hughes into thinking it was his idea—"

Peter smiled. Of course it would involve a con. He could make peace with that. It would be worth it. He clasped the side of Neal's neck and kissed him hard, trying to show how much he cared and receiving an answer that was soft and full of emotion. The next minute El was there, pulling Neal away, demanding her own kiss. Peter ruffled Neal's hair, leaving it awry, and put his arms around them both.

"Our plans for world cohabitation can hit the drawing-board later," said Neal at last, resting his forehead against El's and drawing a line down her cheek with his fingertip. "Right now, someone owes me sorbet."

El laughed. "I do."

They moved through to the kitchen, and Peter and Neal leaned against the breakfast bar and watched El take a carton of her favorite mixed berry sorbet from the freezer. Peter noticed the glint of her wedding ring again. They couldn't give Neal a ring, but maybe there was something else just as good. He'd ask El later—she'd know. In the meantime, Peter handed her three bowls and then elbowed Neal—their Neal, soon to be permanently installed here, if they could swing it. "Okay, tell us about Gerhard Wagner. What did you find out?"

Neal took a bowl and spoon from El, and started to fill them in.


End file.
